Breaking Barriers: Told in Three Parts
by CRMediaGal
Summary: Tales of Acceptance, Grief, and Rebirth. A gift to my dear friend, Asia: three angsty (unrelated) prompts. One-shots, AU, Post-Hogwarts.
1. I

**A/N: The following "sprinkle" of one-shots are dedicated to a very dear friend of mine, Asia, whom I offer these to with love and appreciation. She's been supporting my writing since I nervously first stepped into fanfic some three years ago(!), and, in addition to her steadfast friendship, she's also gifted me with numerous beautiful photo manips over the years for my _Unquestionable Love_ stories, all out of the goodness of her heart and without me asking them of her. You can find links to them on my Profile, and I highly encourage you to check out her wonderful work. She's so talented and her SSHG pieces are a real treat to our fandom.**

**As compensation for gifting me with such wonderful artwork, and for all her unwavering support, I approached Asia recently about possibly gifting her with some SSHG prompts she'd like to see brought to life. She bestowed me with some wickedly angsty scenarios (yes, be forewarned!) to write about, so here are the results!  
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_**Asia, I sincerely hope these little stories meet with your expectations. To anyone else who chooses to follow, I'm humbled to have you along. And feel free to let me know what you think about these angsty pieces. Without your thoughts, it isn't worth sharing. Many thanks, as always, to my lovely beta, Brittny, for helping me bring Asia's prompts to fruition.**_

**Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox. No money, just fun.**

* * *

_**Breaking Barriers: Told in Three Parts**_

**By CRMediaGal**

* * *

******Prompter:** Asia (aka PiccolaScintilla)**  
****Warning(s):** None**  
****Prompt:** Post-Hogwarts, and Voldemort is still alive and at war with Wizarding Britain. Hermione and Severus are secretly in love with each other, and Severus is still a spy for the Order. During a meeting with surviving Order members, Severus shows up badly injured, which prompts the reveal of their secret love affair and newfound understanding by all as to where Severus's loyalties truly lie.

**I**

_"Sometimes you have to embrace the darkness to stop it."_  
― Megan Shepherd

* * *

The nagging twist in Hermione's gut told her that something must be horribly wrong. Severus was late. Not that_ that_ was particularly unusual. He tended to show up at these late-night gatherings following the rest of them, seeing as, unlike everyone else situated comfortably in the Lupins' cozy dwelling on the outskirts of civilisation, he had a deranged psychopath to toe the line with, in addition to following Dumbledore's and the Order's every finger-biting command.

The only other person to ever acknowledge the spy's tardy entrance (as subtly as she could attempt) aside from Dumbledore was Hermione. She was the only surviving Order member who seemingly gave a damn whether the wizard showed up for these meetings at all or stayed away, either by force or by choice. No one else was particularly assuaged to see Severus Snape come sauntering into the room in those billowing black robes of his and wearing that formidable sneer of disdain that kept everyone easily at an arm's length.

At one time—well, for many years, in fact—that had been Hermione, too. Unforeseen circumstances had brought her and her former professor together. She'd been severely wounded following the battle at Hogwarts, thanks to a curse which was intended to hit another target and backfired; it wound up knocking her sideways and leaving multiple slashes on her back. Having already been stationed on the edge of the school grounds, Hermione crawled her way into the Forbidden Forest amid the chaos and destruction, bloodied and battered but alive. It wasn't long after that unfortunate blow that the school was overrun, the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters scouring the grounds in search of survivors. Those worth taking hostage were immediately seized and tortured; those too weak to be taken into custody were murdered on the spot and discarded.

By night-time, and on the brink of consciousness, sweating and breathing raggedly from exerting what little energy she had left, Hermione succumbed to her inflictions and passed out somewhere in the thick of the forest. When she next awoke, she was in a dimly lit room at Grimmauld Place, laying in a comfortable four-poster bed, and had been placed in the most unexpected hands: Severus Snape's. Naturally, he'd griped profusely about looking after her—not that it was a particular luxury she desired herself—but, after some time passed in his persistent and steady company, the man's acerbic tongue grew less bothersome, for it wasn't enough to conceal the delicacy with which he attended her wounds. His words may have been cutting and bordered on rude most of the time, but his impressive nursing tactics most certainly were not.

Whilst Hermione slowly recovered, confined to bed rest for over two weeks without visits from friends, Severus had fed her every meal, administered each potion and ointment himself, and went as far as to refute anyone who attempted to intervene in her care, including Harry and Ron and even Ginny, all of whom, like Hermione, didn't understand the man's stubborn insistence on taking care of her when he'd overtly repudiated her for years.

"You don't have to do this," Hermione tried to reason with him on more than one confusing occasion. Her quiet attempts to dissuade the professor were met by the same squinted eyes and puzzling sort of frown.

"I wouldn't if you were fine, would I, Miss Granger?"

As it turned out, _that_ confounding remark could be interpreted more than one way. Was he taking care of her strictly because it was necessary, because he didn't think Potter, the Weasleys, or any other Order member capable of the task; or was it, in fact, because underneath that spine-inducing sneer of his he actually _cared_ about her well-being?

Such perplexities were only the beginnings of the intrigue and attraction that would follow and grow in the months to come. Those dexterous hands, too, hadn't helped Hermione make better sense of matters, either; but, ultimately, she wouldn't have had their paths play out any other way—not if it meant falling head-over-heels in love with her snarky bastard in the end.

Loving Severus Snape wasn't easy. A relationship with Ron would be a breezy walk in the park by comparison, but, no, Hermione wanted nothing else but this.

_No one else but Severus._

As she would discover in the months ahead, Severus's terribly wounded heart wasn't so easily accessible, and, even in private, he wasn't as openly affectionate a lover as she. Although Hermione never saw the need to question his regard for her, being with someone who wasn't an open book was trying in many respects, not to mention entirely new territory. His affections hadn't been declared yet, only sensed, and yet, any verbal communications weren't a necessity from Hermione's view.

Severus Snape was reticent and restrained, his emotions ranging from passive to dogmatic without warning. He could be emotionally cruel and dismissive to her one moment, particularly when he was under tremendous strains from the Dark Lord or Dumbledore or both masters at once, and clingy and all over her the next, as if he were fearful she might disappear on him in a cloud of smoke.

Yet Hermione wouldn't have had the convoluted puzzle that was Severus Snape any other way—no matter how damaged, irrevocably broken, or fragmented around the edges he may be. He wasn't her pet project to alter and fashion into a Glamour more fanciful and romantic. He was hers and she was his—in all their messy, unsophisticated glory—and it was far from perfect, but _it was enough_.

Of course, no one knew. It had remained their unspoken arrangement; their enticing little secret, which didn't dirty Hermione's soul, though it did leave her pining for translucence and clarity. Perhaps whenever this bloody war finally ended (provided they both came out alive, which Hermione hated to think about), they might be able to start fresh; to be honest and open with everyone they knew instead of hiding their affections for one another behind brief hooded gazes or brushing hands in corridors when one was coming and the other was going.

They never discussed the future. The one time Hermione had tried to broach the sensitive topic Severus turned taciturn and withdrew from her, the echo of his silence speaking louder than words could candidly express, so she never approached him about it again. The future was too raw, too unpredictable, too horrible and frightening.

Thus, Hermione couldn't prevent twiddling her hands beneath the dining table, where she and the rest of the Order, or what was left of them, had congregated for tonight's meeting. Dumbledore, seated at the head, had started prattling off about the need for more provisions for their group stationed in the Forbidden Forest, but most of Hermione's attention had been on the open doorway at the edge of the room, anxiously waiting for Severus to come strolling through the empty archway. Even if he came sweeping in in a quiet rage, she wouldn't have cared, so long as he showed himself safe and unharmed.

A half hour ticked by at a gruesomely slow pace and, still, there was no sign of Severus. Hermione must have been obvious about checking the clock on the mantle behind the table, because at one point Harry eyed her inquisitively from across the table, mouthing to her in a not-so-subtle manner, asking what was the matter. She shrugged his question off as nonchalantly as possible and turned her head away from the doorway lest she be tempted to keep directing her gaze elsewhere and attracting unwanted attention from her friends. In the case of Ron, it wouldn't have been an issue; he was practically asleep beside Harry, his elbow stretched lazily across the table with his chin slumped in his hand; Minerva McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were looking on at Dumbledore, their countenances weary but alert, and the Lupins, seated to Hermione's right, were mute and simply holding tightly to each other's hands.

Dumbledore had just started expounding on the latest reports from Kingsley Shacklebolt and Neville Longbottom when the front door could be heard opening and closing, which prompted everyone to turn their heads. Hermione instantly perked up at the familiar sound of impending dragon-hide boots and nearly shot like a canon out of her chair when the very hooked-nosed, ashen-coloured wizard she'd been worried sick about materialised under the archway.

"Severus?" Dumbledore acknowledged first before any of the others, a hint of panic in his voice.

Hermione's initial relief washed away in the next seconds she took in his startling appearance. Severus's coveted black robes were tattered and torn, all but ripped to shreds, and a large trickle of blood had stained the front of his coat. His face, too, as unnaturally pale as it had always been, was covered with a nauseating mixture of blood, sweat, and purple bruises.

Before anyone else, including Dumbledore, could rush to the man's aid, Hermione found her legs reaching him first—no consideration for her public display of concern apparent as she quickly seized him around the waist and uttered his name with such profound alarm that it jolted Ron straight out of his near comatose-like sleep. Harry froze as well, staring on at his frantic friend and the ill-esteemed professor in astonishment.

"_Severus, what happened?_" Hermione whispered urgently in his ear. He bent forward, issuing a painful-sounding groan, and inclined his head against hers.

"Hermione," he rasped too quietly for anyone else to hear.

Before he could relay anything else to her, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore had rushed over and were inquiring as to what had happened, for the moment ignoring Hermione's peculiar attention in light of the wizard's fretful condition. Hermione wouldn't be pushed aside, however. She stood firm where she was, with her hands firmly hugging Severus around the waist.

"Dear boy," Dumbledore murmured, those twinkling eyes of his settling on Severus's shattered face, "you've been through too much this evening."

"D - Dark Lord," Severus convulsed as he tried to relay a message, "suspects... He - He knows..."

"Hush, Severus," Hermione insisted, wrapping her arms around him tighter, "don't try to speak. We need to get your injuries checked out."

"I agree." Madam Pomfrey fussed about removing what was left of Severus's cloak, not missing the ache-filled flinches and moans he made as she did so. "You're bleeding terribly and completely drenched. You need to lie down at once."

Dumbledore stepped closer, as did the rest of the Order, with the exception of Harry and Ron, who remained at a considerable distance, watching what was unfolding like two stunned codfish fresh out of water.

"Severus, did the Dark Lord divulge any information about his plans?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Albus," Madam Pomfrey clucked angrily and waved a finger at him, "Severus is in too much pain right now to discuss the Dark Lord with you! He needs medical attention!"

Dumbledore threw up his hands in a swift effort to keep the peace. "I'm simply trying to get to the bottom of what's happened, Poppy."

"I have to agree with Albus, Poppy. If there's any crucial information to report," Remus Lupin chimed in, though somewhat sheepishly, "best to get it out of him now before he passes out."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey huffed. McGonagall joined the elderly Mediwitch in pursing her lips disapprovingly at both men. "Your meddlesome tactics can certainly wait a day or two! Look at him! This is nonsense. Severus needs to— Miss Granger, where are you going? Miss Granger! Stop! Where are you taking him?"

"_To lie down_," Hermione snapped over her shoulder; she and Severus were already slugging their way down the hallway in the direction of the stairs, Severus leaning on her most of the way.

"But Miss Granger—" McGonagall's Scottish cadence crept out from down the hall, but Hermione ignored her protests, too.

"Bring up whatever potions he needs, a hot water bottle, and any other provisions you think necessary. He probably won't each much, but we should have some water and food on hand in case he gets hungry. He hasn't eaten since breakfast."

"No... Don't want...food..."

Severus inhaled sharply as they began ascending the stairs towards what he assumed would be his usual occupied room on the fifth floor. Hermione had other ideas in mind, however. Seeing as the man could barely walk, she wouldn't be having him hike all the way up to the fifth level; her own quarters on the first would suffice, whether he saw fit to row with her about it later on or not.

Angst-ridden footsteps came barrelling up behind them but stopped short of the stoop. "Miss Granger, surely Minerva or I can take matters from here," the Mediwitch suggested with a twinge of anxiety in her tone, but Hermione shot her efforts down without a second thought.

"No, it's all right. I'll look after him. He'll stay in my quarters for the time being."

"_Your_ quarters, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. Until he's well."

No additional arguing followed Hermione's take-charge approach, though she could hear them continuing to whisper excitedly with one another at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn't apparent whatever Harry or Ron were thinking of this whole strange debacle, but their befuddlement and concerns, if any, weren't at the forefront of Hermione's mind. Right now, the person who needed her most was Severus, and he was suffering. Thus, just as he had nursed her back to health so many months ago, Hermione was convinced that her touch—her love—would suit him best now.

"You just...ousted us...I believe," Severus grumbled, pausing to utter several harsh-sounding coughs as they reached the top step.

Hermione didn't think twice about turning on her heel and fervently kissing his wet, bloodied cheek. If any of the Order members were still gathered at the bottom of the stairs and peering up at them then, they'd have surely seen what transpired. Hermione couldn't have given less of a damn.

"I don't care," she hissed with feeling; she gathered Severus closer and led them towards the sanctuary of her room. "I'm going to look after you, whether any of them approve of me doing so or not. Their opinions matter shite now. Let's get you to lie down."

* * *

There was a forceful knock at the door not five minutes after they'd entered Hermione's room. She had Severus situated on the bed, though not all that comfortably as he was currently experiencing a high level of pain.

Madam Pomfrey entered her quarters carrying a handful of potions, as well as levitating an assortment of healing supplies that were promptly placed on the bedside table. Hermione was kneeling on the bed and in the midst of unbuttoning Severus's blood-stained frock coat, having already removed his boots. She'd placed a warm, wet cloth over his forehead as well, though he barely comprehended the bustle of his surroundings. His eyelids, droopy and in want of sleep, had fallen shut, whilst his body fought off the excruciating pains that kept striking from every angle.

"Lie still," Hermione hushed him soothingly by stroking his cheek and running the wet cloth around his face, washing away dried blood and perspiration.

She paid no mind to Madam Pomfrey watching her closely or listening in on the words of comfort she offered him. The Mediwitch was mostly tight-lipped and worked without complaint. After her first few attempts at coaxing Severus to drink the potions he needed went unsuccessful, she relinquished control without issue and silently handed them to Hermione in the hopes that she might have better luck tempting the wizard to do as he was told.

"Severus, you _must_ take these potions. They'll help with the pain."

To Madam Pomfrey's utter amazement, a suffering Severus slightly parted his lips to allow Hermione to administer each potion of hers without protest—_A true miracle!_—minus an intermittent coughing fit as she cradled his head underneath her arm and held him close. Her steadfast attention was peculiar but not in the least bit uncomfortable or untoward to Madam Pomfrey, who was accustomed to nursing Severus back to health on her own, and not always to greatest success. The man was stubborn as an ox and wouldn't take her direction most of the time.

Thus, it was exceedingly comforting to her to see Severus being so tenderly looked after. She didn't dare express this yet, though. Such a revelation was still too fresh and would likely take some getting used to for everyone, most especially the two young men presently downstairs and harping on about their friend's sudden mystifying interest in Severus Snape.

Once the last phial was emptied, Severus sunk his head against Hermione's chest and drifted into an uneven sleep. Hermione didn't dare disturb his rest by moving, however, and silently agreed to let Madam Pomfrey take over all other necessary treatments, such as casting a number of healing spells, running a series of diagnostic checks to ensure that Severus was stable, and cleansing the injuries on his chest and arms with Dittany. It momentarily shocked him out of sleep, but he soon recovered and nodded off again, whilst Hermione held him close and Madam Pomfrey wrapped the remaining scars in proper bandaging.

Hermione kept Severus braced to her chest and bent her head to his, massaging her finger tips through his scalp as he slept. If he ever muttered something incoherent or began to stir on account of pain or discomfort, she'd kiss his brow, his lips, or a bruised cheek and softly encourage him to go to back to sleep. He'd follow her instructions with stupendous ease, sometimes mumbling her name before going quiet and still.

Madam Pomfrey caught such delicate moments a number of times as she worked over the injured wizard but never requested that Hermione step aside. It was clear that the hell-bent young woman had no intentions of leaving Severus's side anyhow, but it was also apparent to her that, despite Severus's inability to communicate, a large part of him wanted Hermione there.

After an hour or so, Madam Promfrey stepped away from the bed and wiped her brow. "He should sleep on and off for the next several hours." She turned to Hermione, still hunched over him as she had since the start and running her fingers through his hair. "Perhaps you should try to get some sleep as well—"

"No," she interrupted, albeit calmly. "I'll stay up in case he wakes."

"It won't hurt you to get some sleep yourself, dear."

"No, really, it's fine. I'll stay up."

"If you insist..." A short pause later, "Miss Granger?"

With reluctance, Hermione peered up at the elderly woman standing at the edge of the bed, expecting to find an unfavourable expression written into the hard lines of the woman's face. However, Madam Pomfrey was regarding her tolerably, the look in her soft, grey eyes a combination of sadness and hope.

"You're very...kind to look after him this way."

She'd obviously chosen those words with considerable care, as if afraid to misconstrue what was staring her straight in the face: love. A small, knowing smile crept across Hermione's mouth.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Madam Pomfrey."

The Mediwitch returned Hermione's tender smile and headed for the door, halting as her hand came to rest on the handle. "It's late. I'll be just down the hall if either of you need anything. When he wakes, notify me. He'll need several more spells and potions before those wounds will properly heal. I trust he'll be in and out for the next few days but hopefully not in too much pain."

"All right... Thank you."

Hermione started to peer down at Severus once more when Madam Pomfrey unexpectedly addressed her again. "Thank _you_, Miss Granger, for..." A sudden lump in her throat prevented the Mediwitch from speaking a moment as Hermione looked on, waiting. Once she'd recovered, she added quietly, "It's nice to see someone around Severus who accepts him for who he is rather than what the rest of the world has so wrongly perceived him as. Forgive me, I just haven't seen it before... Not since Lil— Never mind. I know he claims to prefer it that way, but I've never believed such rubbish. Everyone needs..._someone_."

Hermione's composed smile widened a bit, though her voice was contained when she replied with despondency, "Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I agree, they do. Especially him. He... He deserves so much better than what he's gotten."

"Yes, well... I wouldn't say everything that's come Severus's way has been a total loss..."

_That_ observation made Hermione blush to the roots of her frizzy, pulled-back ponytail. Thankfully, the room was too dark for Madam Pomfrey to sufficiently make out the hot flush that surfaced on her cheeks. However, the lines that spoke to the many years of service Madam Pomfrey had made to her practice suddenly aged her another ten years as she regarded Severus solemnly.

"He's been through hell the past several years, especially since the Dark Lord returned, and I've usually been the one to treat him at his worst and most detrimental moments. I daresay you may know more about this harrowing side to his life than you let on, Miss Granger. Particularly in his dreadful dealings with that demented psychopath Albus keeps shamelessly returning him to, he's suffered terribly. Most who've known him a while aren't oblivious to his suffering; they simply aren't aware of the extent to which he's bartered away his life for our cause. I do wish young folks like your friends, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, better understood his sacrifices. Then perhaps they wouldn't be so...resentful of him...for being who he is."

Hermione's smile had long since faded as she listened to Madam Pomfrey speak of Severus with such thoughtful regard. It was just the sort of understanding she'd been searching for when it came to the actions of the complicated man that she loved, and her grim frown in that moment expressed her knowledge of the words left unsaid. Her sombre gaze fell upon the badly beaten Severus in her arms, unmindful of being the topic of such rare concern.

"I know..." Hermione forced herself to examine every dark blemish, every deep cut along his fine features, and grazed a loving hand down one of his cheeks. "I understand we all have sacrifices to make in this war, but I think he's overpaid his dues long enough."

"On _that_ point, Miss Granger, we both can most definitely agree."

"Perhaps..." Hermione abruptly turned to the Mediwitch, her mouth opening and closing several times before settling on a disgruntled sigh. "Never mind."

"Yes? Go on, Miss Granger."

Hermione chewed on her formulating idea a moment longer, studying an intrigued Madam Pomfrey anxiously from across the room at Severus's bedside. "I think it's time Professor Dumbledore understood that his ever-reliable spy _can't_ return to the Dark Lord anymore."

Madam Pomfrey cocked her head sideways. "Oh?"

"Not if he keeps returning like _this_, he shouldn't! It isn't fair; it isn't right. Hasn't he been through enough?"

"I wasn't trying to instigate an argument, dear."

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed tiredly at her forehead. "I know, I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you, Madam Pomfrey. I'm angry with the situation; not you. I _do_ think Professor Dumbledore's played his cards with Severus's life long enough, though. Surely, I can't be alone in thinking it's time all of this stopped?"

"No, you aren't alone in that line of thinking." Madam Pomfrey's kind eyes drifted from a freshly feisty Hermione to a dozing Severus and back again. "Unfortunately, I'm uncertain as to how you'd convince _Severus_ to agree to stop. He seems to think it's his burden to bear; that he's _meant_ to suffer this way..."

"If Professor Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to return to the Dark Lord ever again, he wouldn't. I know he wouldn't."

"I'm not so sure about that, Miss Granger."

"He'd do it...for me," Hermione finished in a shaky breath.

Her soft-spoken but confident remark appeared to have tugged at the Mediwitch's conviction, for she eyed Hermione in a gentler fashion. "Well, if you'd like my support, you'll have it."

Hermione's smile returned, this time in a reflection of earnest. "Your input could come in very handy, Madam Pomfrey."

The elder witch projected a reassuring, aged smile, one that boasted Hermione's confidence. "It's well-worth a try. I don't think my voice is the only added support you'd receive, for that matter." Without elaborating further, the bedroom door creaked open and Madam Pomfrey stepped out into the gloomy hallway. "We can discuss this approach of yours later, Miss Granger. At a more suitable hour, yes?"

With those parting words, Madam Pomfrey nodded a noiseless 'good night' to Hermione and shut the door. For the first time in ages, Hermione felt a surge of purpose swell in the middle of her chest. She _would_ confront Professor Dumbledore about Severus's dangerous espionage role, and the others as well, including her best friends, about what had been, for too long, a tiresome, burdensome secret: hers and Severus's relationship. The man she loved had paid his penance more than was ever necessary, and it was high time Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Order well understood the whole truth.

The Severus Snape she knew was, at his core, a _good_ man—the very best, as a matter of fact—and they'd have to secure other methods for trying to win this war that didn't involve throwing Severus to the adversary likes of Lord Voldemort anymore. He deserved a fighting chance at life as much as the rest of them, starting with her.

_And damn it all if I won't see that it's done!_

Severus suddenly groaned in his sleep, which redirected Hermione's distracted thoughts back to him in his present compromising state. She leaned into the warmth of his body to leave a trail of delicate kisses along his sweat-laden brow.

"Things are going to be different from now on, Severus. You won't have to conceal who you are any longer. I promise you. Neither of us has to hide anymore..."

* * *

Hermione kept a vigil at Severus's bedside the rest of the night, staying awake into the early hours of the morning. Her hand eventually went numb from stroking Severus's scalp so long and, at some point thereafter, her eyelids closed and she bowed to sleep at last.

A few twitches and low moans later, neither of which came from her, brought Hermione round. It was roughly five in the morning, which meant they'd both managed a couple hours of rest, but, as Hermione suspected, it wasn't meant to last.

"Severus?" She startled awake and enclosed his body, which had abruptly began convulsing, with both arms. His eyelids fluttered but wouldn't open. "_Severus?_ Severus, can you hear me? Please stop! You're going to hurt yourself!"

The trembles worsened, though, leaving Hermione with no other option but to cast a body bind on him whilst she sought out Madam Pomfrey's help down the hall. She could tell by his frozen, wincing expression that, and even with his eyes squeezed shut, he was undergoing an agonising after-shock to being hit with the Cruciatus Curse. She hastily rushed to Madam Pomfrey's room, who awoke at once and staggered back with Hermione to her room wearing a lopsided nightcap and shabby robes Hermione surmised the woman to have owned for more than one decade.

Madam Pomfrey released her body bind on Severus's immobile form and began another round of healing spells that lasted several minutes. She thoroughly checked his bandages as well and rewrapped a particularly nasty gash across the length of his sternum. Dittany hadn't quite worked to its full potential on some of the deeper gnashes, so Hermione administered more potions to ease any lingering pains and convulsions. Minutes later, Severus entered a much deeper sleep than the first, moaning with relief before going still on the bed.

"He'll rest at least the remainder of the morning with that Sleeping Draught in his system. I'll check on him later this morning and instruct Kreacher to bring you both some breakfast. Hopefully you can get him to eat something with greater success than I've managed in the past."

"Oh?" Hermione questioned as she tucked Severus in beneath several coverings.

"Mmm. Usually he just wound his mouth tightly and tried to tune me out, the stubborn bugger!"

"Well, I'll give it a try," Hermione issued, giving the Mediwitch a feeble but resolute smile.

Madam Pomfrey patted Hermione's shoulder and took her leave again. It didn't take long for Hermione to succumb to sleep after the shock of Severus's reawakening wore off. Unlike previously, however, she tucked herself into bed beside him and snuggled against his slack, battered figure beneath the sheets. If either of the boys were daft enough to barge in on her later that morning because they wanted answers, they'd have to risk catching her with their one-time professor in bed, even if it was just that. The amusing reactions she'd surely seduce for her actions would be worth the headache and strife.

_No more hiding_, she reasserted as she dozed off, one hand draped across Severus's bandaged chest. _No more lies._

* * *

Hermione sucked in a tense breath, forgetting to exhale slowly and steadily. Her stomach had been doing somersaults for the past hour, but she wasn't nervous, only trepidatious about confronting Harry and Ron over what was sure to be an immensely awkward conversation. The timing would never be right for facing her friends about her relationship with Severus, though, and it couldn't be put off much longer. She'd managed to avoid them for two days now, and both boys were apparently nagging every member of the Order, including Madam Pomfrey, about her and when she might be coming out of hiding to speak to them.

At this point, Hermione wouldn't put it past the headstrong duo to disturb Severus's much-needed rest and storm in unannounced, demanding an explanation if she didn't show her face soon. None of the explanations she'd offer them would help the boys to better understand her attraction, however; she could most certainly count on their disgust, which made approaching them about it all the worse. Harry, especially, would probably view her relationship with Severus as some sort of betrayal; not that Hermione ultimately gave a damn what either of them thought, but she couldn't deny that the notion would hurt if that was to be the case.

After all, it wasn't their place to have a say, which Hermione reminded herself as she showered and dressed for the morning, realising she hadn't changed in over forty-eight hours. Her relationship with Severus was just that: hers.

_No one else's_.

After chalking up the courage to go downstairs, Hermione finally emerged from her closed-off bedroom, and made her way down to the kitchen with a nervous step to her gait. As she descended the stairs, she could hear a general commotion of plates being piled high with food, the sound of tea steaming, and the trickling of coffee being poured. She could also hear Harry's and Ron's distinct voices the closer she drew to their location, and a host of ugly scenarios began playing out in her mind. To the boys, Severus Snape may forever be the greasy git of the dungeons who wanted for nothing and served to merit little, if any, of their respect; but, damn it, she had to at least try to make them understand. She'd either wind up as their still swotty but fiercely loyal friend, or they'd pass judgment on her for choosing to be with a man they'd despised since childhood and stomp off like petulant children; Hermione could only hope for the former and sucked in a breath as she timidly opened the kitchen door, where a loaded breakfast buffet was in full swing.

Aside from Ron and Harry, who were quietly chatting with Ginny off to the side of the room (Ron was busily stuffing his face with as much egg and toast as he could manage like always), Molly Weasley, Remus and Tonks, and an unexpected Neville were present as well. Hermione had no idea when Neville had arrived at Grimmauld Place but was momentarily distracted, thrilled to see him unharmed. It had been months since they'd last seen one another, and the lanky chap was the first to leap to his feet and embrace her in a friendly greeting. Did he know about her and Severus? Had the others clued him in yet?

"Oi, Hermione! It's so good to see you!" he exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear.

"Neville! When did you get here?"

"Last night. Tonks met me half way between Hogwarts and here." He stepped back and shot her one of his roughish grins.

"How are the others?"

"Hanging in there. It's wicked to have a full breakfast, though. We've been living off potatoes, dried berries, and all sorts of unexciting rubbish for months, so I've definitely missed a real gourmet meal."

Neville turned to Molly to give the proud matriarch a polite nod of appreciation. The plump, redheaded witch returned his acknowledgment by pointing adamantly to the various pots and pans filled with delicious-looking cuisine, as if their aroma hadn't already drawn everyone's attentions and avid appetites.

"You be sure to take as much of this back with you as you can when you go, Neville."

"I will, Mrs Weasley, for sure!"

Hermione caught Molly's eye, but the woman quickly turned her back to pour herself a cup of tea; or maybe that was just to busy herself and avoid eye contact. Neville, for one, didn't appear to have noticed the awkward silence that had replaced the buzzing and chatter as soon as Hermione had entered the kitchen. If he was aware, he was choosing to be a gentleman about it and ignore the obvious strain in the room. Hermione could feel weight of several pairs of eyes on her, impolitely judging her from every direction, and did her best to ignore them.

"How is it that you're up _after_ those two?" Neville inquired jokingly, tossing a smirk towards Harry and Ron who, still huddled with Ginny in a corner, only frowned in return and said nothing.

"I was tired; haven't slept much since..." Hermione had started to stop herself when she reminded herself that now was the moment; she mustered her inner courage to keep talking. "Since Severus got back from his latest summoning."

Neville's eyebrows nearly rose to his hairline. Was he pretending to be surprised that she'd acknowledged the elephant in the room, or was he genuinely stunned by what he'd heard?

"Oh... Um... How is he?" Neville asked after Severus once he'd resumed composure.

Before Hermione could respond, however, Harry's jarring tone rang out from across the short gap between them, his words slicing the air like a knife. "Yeah, how is your precious Snape doing, Hermione?"

If a couple of the older adults had been purposely averting their eyes, they were all now blatantly staring outright. The atmosphere had gone so still that had a pin dropped to the floor one would hear its every squeaky bounce.

Although Harry's aversion towards her wasn't completely unexpected—least of all to Hermione—it still caught her off balance, nonetheless. She and Neville both turned to the glaring young man in round glasses, and her reaction took on an intensity and offence that matched his.

"He's quite badly injured, actually," Hermione answered between clenched teeth. She was determined to keep her cool through this, no matter how trying that may prove.

"Then you could try letting Madam Pomfrey do her job rather than interfering as you've been."

Hermione blinked hard at him. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know everything there is to know about everything, Hermione," Harry didn't hesitate to blast her, "including how to heal someone. Let Madam Pomfrey handle Snape."

"I've _not_ been interfering; I've been _assisting_. And I don't need you to tell me what I can and can't do, Harry, thank you very much."

"Really? 'Cause you've been bossing me around since we were eleven-years-old, so I think I've earned the right to tell _you_ a thing or two now."

"Harry..." came Remus's warning tone from the opposite end of the room.

"Oi, Harry," Neville also chimed in, clearly uneasy with what was going on. "Why are you giving Hermione such a hard time? She just came downstairs, mate."

"Giving _her_ a hard time?" Harry challenged as Hermione braced herself for the onslaught of all his pent-up misunderstanding. "How 'bout how she's apparently been in the leagues with Snape this whole ruddy time and hasn't spoken a word about it to anyone, including me and Ron?"

Ron, who had been entirely too quiet and not even chewing the remnants of his breakfast, turned beet red at the utterance of his name. "Leave me out of this, Harry," he pleaded softly to his best friend, who shot him an affronted glare.

"_Leave you out of it?_ Oh, so now that Hermione's here, you've gone soft and no longer want to question any of this?"

"I'm right here, you know," Hermione hissed, crossing her arms squarely over her chest. "You can both say whatever it is you're dying to get out. Well? Go on, then!" As Harry started to open his mouth, however, she added bitingly, "But you _will_ allow me to answer when all is said and done."

Harry's jaw tightened. He took a decisive step forward and balled his hands at his sides.

"Fine. You and Snape?" he started and stopped, supposedly waiting for Hermione to begin some sort of dissertation about their relationship, which she refused to do. Instead, she stared her friend down in challenge, prompting utter bewilderment to flash across Harry's face. His anger briefly depleted as his shock and confusion over the revelations of recent days rose to take its place.

"My god, Hermione! You and - and _Snape?_" When she only continued to stare at him, her demeanour unruffled or fazed by his disbelief, Harry scrunched his nose in contempt and scratched at his messy black hair. "_When? Why?_ How could you—"

"Don't go there, Harry. Don't you dare 'how could you' to me. You have some nerve."

"_Me?_" Harry's mouth dropped and a similar semblance of puzzlement stretched to the others around the room.

"Yes, you! _All of you!_" She made a point of meeting everyone's eyes; some of them at least had the decency to look ashamed, particularly Remus, but the majority gazed back at her, befuddled. "Have any of you ever once asked yourselves _why_ Severus acts as he does? Why he never lets anyone close enough to understand the hell he's going through? Why he repeatedly sticks his neck out for all of you day after day without expectancy of anything in return?"

"What are you talking ab—"

"He puts his life on the line as much as the rest of us, Harry. He stands before the Dark Lord on a regular basis and risks his life to extract information for our benefits; he lies for us and covers our tracks and throws the Dark Lord off kilter to keep _you_ safe; he returns to us beaten and cursed and on the brink of mental and physical collapse, and does he ever once ask for consolation or company or a helping hand from any of you? _No!_ And not _once_ have you—yeah, you, too, Ron!—ever had the decency to show him a sliver of the respect he deserves!"

Harry's cheeks flared scarlet. "Perhaps if he didn't act like such a—"

"Watch yourself, Harry," Hermione warned through a snarl that surprised them all and took a step closer; Harry didn't sway, but Ron smartly shuffled backward against the wall. "I _know_ he's difficult; I _know_ he's been exceptionally hard on you—"

"_A right foul git is more like it!_"

"But, ask yourself how he interacts with everyone else in this house and you may find yourself in similar company. You're not somehow exclusive to his unpleasantness and general dislike, Harry."

"Then how can you—"

"And if you stopped and thought about it rationally for five minutes instead of blaming him for everything like you always have, you might come to realise that Severus's temperament has nothing to do with you."

Harry was too stricken to reply. Hermione could see the hurt and resentment reeling in those bright green eyes, their depths wrestling and grasping to make sense of things, but the struggle was acute and not easily turned asunder. Hermione seized the abrupt lapse in their row to take a calculated breath and finally approach him without anger, now trusting herself not to lose her cool.

"Listen, Harry," she spoke evenly and reached for his arm, "I can understand why you're upset. You think I've betrayed your trust; that perhaps I've gone mad and this is just a crazed phase, yes? I can assure you this isn't some fleeting fancy of mine or me off my rocker. And the last thing I'd ever consider doing is betraying you. I'd hope you'd know me well enough by now to not think so little of me. You're my best friend.

"But I... I'm tired of hiding; I'm exhausted and done with concealing how I feel about Severus. I love him, Harry, and he loves me. We're in love with each other, and what we have is real and genuine and as good as anything you have with Ginny, or Remus here has with Tonks. Believe it or not, he respects me, and I respect him. I don't expect you or anyone else here to see things from our perspective, but I'd appreciate you all at least trusting us to understand the depth of sincerity that lies between us and its truths. _Our love is real_—the best sort—and it's between us, not any of you."

If the dead silence in the room could have possibly jacked up several notches, it certainly felt so following Hermione's jaw-dropping confirmation of love. She, too, sensed the intensity in the room heightening by the second but felt disconnected from the implicit buzzing that hovered over her genuine affirmation regarding hers and Severus's relationship. Her eyes darted from Harry to Ron and Ginny behind him and slowly rotated around the kitchen, waiting for the signs of dismay and animosity to drop on her like ten ton bricks. She was, therefore, pleasantly surprised, if not overly apprehensive, when no one proceeded to bark absurdities at her, though their astonishment at the news continued conveying its prevalence for several moments more.

"Hermione," Remus cleared his throat from behind her, where he was seated at the kitchen table with Tonks and baby Teddy, who was taking a bottle from his mother and otherwise quiet, "I know this all may seem highly irrelevant and none of my business, but I only have one question I wish to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"When did your relations with Severus begin? Not, erm... Not while you were still at Hogwarts, I hope?"

Hermione rattled, surprised by such an assumption. "Goodness, no! No, it didn't start until I was recouping from the battle; when Severus was taking care of me. Things just sort of progressed slowly from there."

"I should've known he'd try to get his greasy hands on you," Harry muttered under his breath.

Ginny made something akin to a hissing noise behind him, warning Harry to shut it unless he wanted to wind up on the receiving end of Hermione's wand, but it was too late. Hermione had overheard his insensitive comment and whipped her head around to shoot daggers at her pouting friend.

"It wasn't ever like that, Harry. Don't presume to know anything about our relationship. I don't expect you to like it, but I _do_ expect you to come to terms with it and, if nothing else, respect my decision, because it is _mine_." She paused to place her hands on her hips. "Besides, I'm an adult and don't require yours or anyone's permission to fall in love with whomever I choose. Bear that in mind the next time you make an ignorant comment like that about matters you know little about."

"You're right," he grumbled through his teeth, "I do know very little. You've kept it all a secret! From everyone!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I think it's becoming increasingly clear _why_ I did, isn't it? If the reasons are unfathomable to you then I make no apologies."

Harry looked as if he was on the verge of spewing something else his good conscience would later regret when Molly interrupted them both with an accusatory appraisal of her own. "But, Hermione, think reasonably a moment! He's a spy; he's already a liability. You're putting yourself at great emotional risk by taking up with—"

"With all due respect, Mrs Weasley, we're _all_ doing a lot of emotional risk-taking these days, don't you think?"

Despite her valid point, Molly's critical scowl enhanced. "Well, if I may be so bold as to say it, he's also much older than you, dear. Golly, he's only a little over a decade younger than _me_, I should think! How do you know his intentions are so honourable?"

"Now, wait just a second there, Molly," Tonks finally piped into the heated discussion, and with a light-hearted chuckle that knocked the intensity down a couple notches; Molly appeared ready to go on the defence, though, seemingly aware of the challenge that was coming her way. "That isn't fair. Age in a consensual relationship can only be measured by the two people involved; not anyone else. Speaking from someone who knows what that's like, if it isn't important to Hermione and Severus then it's of no importance to any of us."

Molly pursed her lips, clearly not in agreement on that score, but she said nothing else on the subject, only issued an exasperated sigh and rapped the side of her tea cup, annoyed.

With the silence resettling upon the room, Hermione drew her eyes around her one last time to make sure everyone saw the sheer resolution she carried. Harry's temper had waned a little, though he continued to eye her sorely, as if she'd stolen his last chocolate frog.

"So," she spoke assertively and with her chin raised, "now you know the truth. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your opinions about us, whatever they may be, amongst yourselves. Things are going to be tough enough for Severus in the weeks ahead, and he doesn't deserve any added aggravations that may back-peddle his recovery. All I ask is that everyone, at the very least, give him some space and maybe offer him a little more civility when he comes around. I believe he's earned that."

Hermione straightened and backed away towards the kitchen door. "I'll need to speak to Professor Dumbledore when he arrives. As of today, Severus will no longer be a spy for the Order."

Remus jerked in his chair, her friends cocked their heads in surprise, and Molly put down her cup. "What?" Remus inquired in shock; he inclined forward in his seat, his shoulders hunched. "What do you mean Severus will no longer be spying for us?"

"I mean, I won't be allowing anyone to make him a liability any longer," Hermione answered in a measured and insistent tone of voice.

"But, Hermione—" Molly started.

"Severus has been spying for Professor Dumbledore and the Order for two decades. Two nights ago, he barely came back to us alive, and it wasn't the first time he's returned clinging to any shred of normalcy. Enough is enough."

Remus cautiously rose to his feet. "Hermione, I know you mean well, but you aren't permitted to make that decision. That choice resides with Professor Dumbledore and Severus alone."

"Which is why I'll be speaking to Professor Dumbledore on this matter the next time he comes to Grimmauld Place. Seeing as Severus is in such poor shape, I'll be speaking on his behalf."

No one was able to reason with Hermione further. She swiftly turned on her heel and stalked away out of sight, leaving behind a speechless group of friends, one-time supporters, and now, she feared, bitter detractors.

* * *

"Why would you do such a thing, Hermione? The audacity! You might've cost us valuable information for the cause!"

"Oh, yes,_ the cause_," Hermione mocked as gently as possible whilst stirring Severus's scorching hot cup of chicken noodle soup with a spoon. "Always about the cause. What about _you_, Severus Snape? When was the last time you considered your _own_ welfare for a change?"

"Pushy... Irresponsible..."

Severus grumbled a number of choice words under his breath but refused to provide Hermione with a sufficient answer and fisted one of his hands into the sheets. It was the third day he'd been awake and able to speak, let alone keep anything of substance down his stomach. They'd chatted off and on between his uneven sleeping patterns and potion intakes, as well as frequent checks by Madam Pomfrey, and it was only recently that the wizard had been made abreast of the conversation Hermione, the Mediwitch, and a supportive McGonagall had had with Dumbledore on his behalf.

Naturally, as they'd all anticipated, Severus was furious upon learning of the three witches "going behind his back." Beyond the ice-piercing ire he bore Hermione for a number of hours following the news, she could detect a glimmer of amenity in those rich, colourless eyes as well; of an unspoken gratification for doing something for his benefit; of caring enough—_of loving him enough_—to ensure that he'd never be put directly in harm's way ever again.

Admittedly, the thought of never having to return to face the Dark Lord or do his dirty bidding was like the weight of a second body being lifted off his shoulders. Severus expected his Dark Mark would burn and pain him in the months to come when he didn't answer the Dark Lord's attempts to summon him, but, to openly defy the evil zealot at long last? To publicly stand on the side of good amongst his allies, the Order, and Hermione? _That_ was far more than Severus could have ever wished for or hoped to live long enough to experience.

_And it's all because of_ her. _Because of Hermione..._

As Hermione relayed to him in detail her private conversation with Dumbledore, Severus listened with increased emotion. If her speaking to Dumbledore had been a long and onerous affair then helping Severus to come to terms with why she'd both ousted their relationship and seen to his safety all in a matter of days was even more arduous a conversation, but one that was well-worth having.

In the end, Dumbledore had acquiesced to what a staunch Hermione had requested: for Severus to be free of all spying obligations in the future, though he relinquished his hold over Severus with great reluctance. Severus, meanwhile, hadn't known whether to be outraged or touched by what Hermione had taken the liberty of doing without his consent. Should he be offended by her interference or relieved that their relationship was finally out in the open, and that he was free of (nearly) all ties to a sick and twisted master? Should he ever trust the meddlesome witch again, for that matter, seeing as she'd gotten up to quite a bit of mischief in his absence?

Ultimately, Severus bent to Hermione's will, content in the knowledge that, thanks to a fierce young woman who actually loved and cared for him—and Merlin himself could only surmise how _that_ was possible—his backbreaking days tiptoeing amongst evil incarnate were finally over. That, and he had Hermione, who loved and accepted him fully, every flaw and damaged part of him.

Severus repositioned his head against a handful of pillows and stared up at the lovely creature feeding him his evening meal, the irritated lines on his face dissipating in place of a dawning awe and appreciation for what she'd done. "Despite the fact that I'm still thoroughly irritated with you," he snarled, baiting her on, "I realise that I haven't thanked you properly yet."

Hermione smirked down at him before blowing on another spoon full of his soup. "Oh, rubbish. You've thanked me more than once, Severus. You needn't keep repeating yourself. I know you care deeply, even if you like to pretend that you're somehow unaffected by how wonderful and irresistible I am."

Ignoring her playful goading, Severus agreed to sip the spoon she'd brought to his lips and, afterwards, reached up a hand to gently caress her jaw. Hermione took the opportunity to place the cup of soup aside and gazed down at him attentively, her smile as sweet and accepting as it had always been.

"No," he murmured and tugged on the back of her neck, bringing her towards him, "I meant, I haven't thanked you like this..."

Hermione's face was brought closer to his, where he proceded to envelope her lips with an outpouring of warm, appreciative kisses that left her breathless and at his mercy. Her hands cradled his face and eagerly sought more of his masculine taste, till he determined they'd snogged enough and reared back against his pillows, staring intently up into her receiving eyes.

"Well," she managed light-heartedly once she'd caught her breath, "if that's what you meant by thanking me good and proper, you can feel free to thank me anytime you'd like."

Hermione laughed against his mouth, but Severus stared on, regarding her with all seriousness. "I _will_," he declared quietly, earnestly. "Every day. For as long as I have breath."

And then he kissed her again, desperate to once more sense Hermione's wholehearted acceptance, and she readily and selflessly gave it to him, just as she had openly before her friends days ago; just as she would continue to do so eminently, and without hesitation, before the entire Wizarding world in the years to come.

* * *

**A/N #2: Part II (next prompt) to follow soon. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.**


	2. II

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows, favs, and feedback! :) I'm _thrilled_ that folks enjoyed Angsty Prompt #1. (See, Asia? I told you your ideas were great!).  
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**And now I bring you Asia's Angsty Prompt #2. This one _may_ require tissues... **

**_Again, I sincerely hope it meets Asia's expectations, and that anyone else who reads it is moved by its contents. (I wound up changing the setting a bit with this one, but hopefully that's all right with my prompter.) Many thanks to my beta, Brittny, for reassuring me that this was good to post!_  
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**Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox. No money, just fun.**

* * *

**Prompter:** Asia (aka PiccolaScintilla)  
**Warning(s):** Major character death  
**Prompt:** Hermione is in hospital and dying. Severus is forced to come to terms with her passing and must relay the news to their young daughter.

**II**

_"So it's true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love."_  
― E.A. Bucchianeri

* * *

The heavy rain that poured over the city of London, its lifeblood clobbering loudly against the glass window where Severus rested his forehead, paralleled the man's exceedingly glum mood. Oh, the irony. Life had a perverse and rather crooked way of laughing at him at the worst of times. It had been storming the day Lily died—so senselessly destroyed by the Dark Lord, whose bad karma was to be paid in full seventeen years later by her son. The war had sieged outside the Shrieking Shack the night Severus was convinced would be his last. Today, the clouds had accumulated, turning darker and more menacing by the moment. The rain poured hard and relentlessly; its very presence made Severus sick with dread.

He wasn't ready for this. No matter that he knew it was coming; he still wasn't prepared to say goodbye. How could he possibly accept what life was so viciously taking from him? How would he continue to _breathe_ once she was gone?

The glass felt appropriately cool against his alabaster skin. Severus closed his eyes, wishing to drown out the damnable sound of the seething storm cultivating and gathering strength beyond his window. He wanted to occlude his mind of all thought and emotion—of the countless memories soon to be that: mere remembrances, of the overpowering loss that would undoubtedly swallow and consume him, of the sinking sense of despair forcing its way into his very bones, intent on destroying him from the inside out.

Severus willingly turned away from the window. His eyes warily opened to what had become a foreseeable sight; it had been so for eight days. _At least she's home now, Severus_, he told himself as he took comfort in watching her breathe. _She's comfortable, and she's home. This is where she wanted to be._

His wife's internal battle was drawing to a close. There was immense relief in knowing she wouldn't have to suffer much longer, but the anguishing heartache at the inevitable loss fast approaching was far more acute.

It seemed unfathomable to Severus to go on without his wife, Hermione. He wouldn't roll over in bed to find himself choking on her maddening curls anymore. He wouldn't be touched by her laughter whenever he said something she found amusing, or hear its dramatic progression from an airy flutter to a full blown cackle that tended to surprise and startle strangers. There would be no more of their regular walks to work with one another or regroupings at the atrium to the Ministry at the end of their work shifts. They wouldn't see their five-year-old daughter, Catriona ("Cat", as they fondly called her), off to school in the mornings or make their usual stop at their favourite café just down the block to grab coffee.

So many normal, everyday things were about to change. So many precious moments were about to become significantly _less_ without Hermione there to share in their frequency. She was the heart of their near perfect 'niche'; the soul that unified them as a family of three. Facing the everyday without Hermione would be like walking around without one of his limbs. A part of him would forever be missing—hollow, broken, permanently unhealed.

What would Severus do when he had no one to wait for at the end of his work shift? Who would he confide in about Cat and his worries for her future? Around whom would he wrap his arms late at night, give his heart to, and express himself openly? Who would now give his life purpose and meaning and make the burden of having lived through war and devastation so utterly rewarding?

Severus blinked back tears and approached the bed where his wife lay asleep, a warm spot he'd occupied with her—his _everything_—for nine blissful years. Their daughter, Cat, slept curled up against her mother's chest, her dark brown curls covering much of her sweet, angelic face.

They were perfect, Severus reflected, the lump in his throat tightening as he made to quietly sit down beside them. He wanted nothing more than to be near, to sense and absorb their beautiful tranquility, the life of their presence. The sight of Cat nestled against Hermione caused his chest a tremendous ache that couldn't be suppressed. The ghastly pull of life being robbed and sucked from the room was almost stifling.

Severus heard Hermione's shallow breathing amidst the surging rain outside and slumped sideways to gently wrap her hand in his. She probably wouldn't wake after the rough night she'd had, unable to catch her breath or slow her overworked pulse. Severus had kept vigil, retaining a steady stream of healing spells throughout the night that wouldn't, in actuality, mend his wife's afflictions but, at the very least, allow her to sleep and breathe more comfortably. Others would likely have slammed the wizard for not returning his wife to St Mungo's at first light, but for Severus, the decision was a simple one: Hermione didn't want to go back. She refused to die in hospital, and he'd respect her decision, no matter who else disapproved.

Before Hermione had lost her power of speech, she'd adamantly expressed to Severus wanting to die at home, amongst all the comforts and trappings they'd made together, including their fine book collection, which Severus had personally rearranged in their bedroom for Hermione to admire and enjoy. He read to her daily, sometimes for hours on end. She'd listen to Cat practicing the art of reading, too, and, in her teary eyes, Severus could sense the immense pleasure and pride with which Hermione took seeing their daughter thriving. That look of gratification she wore so insistently beat the never-ending diagnostic tests, pushy Healers disrupting family time, and stagnant room she'd have otherwise been spending the rest of her days in by a mile.

At his wife's last stay in St Mungo's, where the undetermined dark curse she'd so unfairly received as a fifth year was finally taking its toll on her physical well-being, Hermione had asked Severus to take her home, and he'd appeased her last request without a single protesting word. There was no way he'd refute that request, no matter how badly it frightened him.

Not soon after returning to their flat Hermione lost her ability to communicate, but she made her sentiments felt and understood in other ways, and Severus was such a sharp preceptor of her thoughts anyhow that it wasn't too trying an order. Cat struggled more with not being able to hear her mummy's voice, but Severus helped Hermione to relay heartfelt messages their five-year-old could comprehend.

And she'd been so brave, his Hermione. He was certain she cried at times when he was out of the room, say, cooking Cat's dinner or giving her her nightly baths; but she never let her stoutheartedness in the face of death drop in front of him or their daughter. Her eyes were often puffy and red when he'd return to their bedroom, but, as soon as she saw him, she'd crack that tender smile that, simply put, melted his heart.

That was his Hermione these days: always smiling. Even when she was in unspeakable pain and unable to hide her suffering her composure was phenomenal; it made Severus love her more, if that was possible. She comforted him at quiet moments when he lost his battle to control himself, tenderly patting his hand or running her fingers through his hair, now speckled with grey, or along his cheek. Merlin, he'd miss her touch so deeply...

Cat sometimes asked hard-hitting questions Hermione couldn't answer, such as when she'd be well, or when she and Mummy could read again together, and, still, Hermione would smile. She'd pinch her daughter's cheek, kiss, and embrace her as if she'd never let go, prompting Cat to squirm and try to wiggle herself free of Hermione's grasp.

Severus wasn't looking forward to_ that_ conversation. Cat knew her mummy was unwell, but not at Death's doorstep. That was another one of their last hard discussions he and Hermione had, and he'd nearly broke down in her arms by the time they were through.

"She doesn't need to know, love," Hermione had insisted, even as she snivelled and wiped at her tears. "I don't want her to know it's coming. She's too little; it will only frighten her, and I don't want her to be afraid."

"But, Hermione—"

"No, Severus. Please... Let her think I fell asleep and didn't wake up. Let her believe Mummy went home not to die but to try to get better. When she's old enough, you can tell her the whole truth."

"I... I'm not sure I can..."

"Yes, you can, Severus." Hermione's empathy and guilt wrenched at Severus's heart, and he tried to maintain his composure. "I'm sorry, love. I just... I don't want to see my daughter suffering, too, in my final days. Seeing you hurting tears me apart as it is; I can't watch our daughter go through that as well."

Severus agreed, and they'd said nothing more on the subject, but those breathtaking, sepia-coloured irises had conveyed so much more left unshared: how deeply Hermione lamented her husband having to have the conversation of her passing with their daughter; how sorrowfully it hurt her heart that he'd have to raise Cat on his own, without her help or support; how she regretted that she wouldn't be there for all the moments he'd desperately be in need of her advice. They'd both wept over those painful losses and clung to one another a little tighter that night.

At last, or all too soon, the finality was drawing near and Severus could only watch, wait, tremble, and weep the loss of his Hermione, _his everything_. She'd supported and loved him unconditionally despite his shortcomings, of which there were many. She'd given him all he could have ever dreamt of: a partner and best friend, and a beautiful, healthy child. Now, she was leaving him, and he loathed her as much as he loved her for her brusque, unreasonable departure.

Severus tightly squeezed her hand. Hermione muttered something shaky and uncertain, but his ears caught the warm, affectionate utterance of his name. He let a tear slide and immediately laid down on the bed beside her, resting a hand over her and their sleeping daughter. She rasped his name once or twice more, and Severus fervently kissed her cool lips, his cheeks now damp and flushed.

"I love you, Hermione," he choked out, trying to reel in the composure he was swiftly losing. If only he'd said the words more often. "I love you...so much... So very, _very_ much."

Severus rested his head to hers, his protruding nose pressed to the side of his wife's too-cold face. She managed several more uneven breaths, but then her chest suddenly stilled and rose no more. He wrenched his arm tighter around his wife and dozing child, who remained completely unaware that her mother had suddenly passed, and sobbed softly, hopelessly, into her shoulder.

* * *

The following morning, breakfast was too quiet. The rain had finally stopped, but the sun stayed far away behind somber, overcast clouds. Severus barely touched his steaming cup of Earl Grey, and Cat mainly stirred her granola cereal but wouldn't bring it anywhere near her mouth. She chanced a glance at her father a number of times, but he never returned her thoughtful gaze. His face, to her, was strange looking, though—extremely pale, stubbly, with heavy, red rims around his eyes that shouldn't be there. He frowned, too, though not with that sharp, concentrated scowl usually modelled over _The Daily Prophet_ or _Potions Weekly_; it was more of a woeful pout and projected all the sadness that so weightily clenched his heart. And he stared only at the table, which wasn't particularly exciting, for there was nothing there to capture his attention.

"Daddy?" she piped up after minutes had gone by without a single exchange of words.

Severus blinked and blankly looked at her. "Yes, sweetie?"

"Where'd Mummy go?"

Severus's jaw went taut, his voice considerably worn and overtaxed when he answered slowly, "You remember, Cat? They came to take her last night—"

"I know, but _where did she go?_"

Severus sighed wearily and scrubbed at his face. "To the funeral home, sweetie."

"But, what is she doing there? Why is she there?"

"Cat, we've been through this... We're making arrangements to have Mummy—"

"Celebrated," Cat finished, nodding with a proud smile. She inadvertently twirled her spoon. "To celebrate that Mummy's now in heaven."

Severus forced a feebly strained smile of his own, but his daughter's innocent words tore at his grieving heart. The reality was too raw and near.

"Yes... That's right."

"So, Mummy's in heaven?"

"Yes, she - she is."

"When can I see her, Daddy?"

Severus fought to suppress the unpleasant taste that, at once, settled in his mouth. "I'm afraid...you can't, sweetheart."

Cat scrunched up her nose, obviously confused. "Why not, Daddy?"

"Heaven's a place that..." Although he hadn't considered how this conversation might go, or what he'd say, for that matter, too little sleep and too wrought with emotion left him with a rather unguarded tongue. He spoke frankly but wound up surprising himself—later on—by what he passed on to his young daughter in that difficult moment. "Heaven's a place that only angels can go to, Cat. Mummy's become an angel, but you and I haven't."

Cat's face fell; she was clearly disappointed by this turn of events. "Why can't_ I_ be an angel, too, Daddy?"

"Because you have to live here on earth for a while longer still."

"But, why did Mummy get to become an angel and you didn't?"

A corner of Severus's mouth tugged upwards, though his black eyes were mistier than before. "Because Merlin was so enamoured with your mummy that he decided to take her before me."

"Is she special, Daddy?"

"Oh, yes, she's special all right. You are, too, sweetheart. You're _both_ very special."

Cat frowned. "But, Mummy still got to go to heaven and I didn't."

"You'll get to go...someday... Just not yet. Not for a long time."

Cat pondered her father's words a moment or two with that same fierce concentration Severus had before she hopped off her chair and padded over to his side of the table. Without issuing a word, she crawled her way onto his lap, pausing to hug him around the neck and be hugged in return, and then rested her head beneath his chin.

"Daddy?"

Severus was too tired to wipe at his eyes but attempted to clear his throat. "Yes?"

"I can't go visit Mummy in heaven?"

Severus compressed her more firmly to his chest and inhaled a deep breath. "No, sweetheart, I'm afraid you can't..."

"I wish I could."

"I know... I wish I could, too."

"You're sad about Mummy."

It was an observation rather than a question, and one that Severus didn't fight the perceptive tot on. "Yes, I am, Cat. I'm...very sad about Mummy. I miss her terribly. I'll miss her always."

"I'll miss her, too, Daddy. A lot."

"I know you will." His trembling lips desperately sought the top of her head; her hair had the same coarse, frizzy texture as Hermione's, and that, too, tugged at his heartstrings. "You know, you may not be able to see Mummy, but she's with you, Cat."

"Really?"

Cat's head lifted slightly beneath him, and he detected the glimmer of hope in her small voice. He responded by embracing her tighter.

"Yes, sweetie... Even though you can't see Mummy, she can hear your every thought, your every word, and when you talk to her, she may not answer, but she'll listen."

A considerate pause later, "I'd like that, Daddy. I'd like to be able to speak to Mummy."

"You can, Cat. Remember that. She may be in heaven and we're still down here, but she can see and hear us. She'll be looking after you, I promise."

"How will I know, Daddy? How will I know Mummy's listening?"

Severus delicately tapped her chest, grateful to have his tormented face, now dripping with tears, burrowed in all his daughter's thick curls. "Right here, love," he whispered closely. "Right here."

"My heart?"

"Yes, Cat..."

"I like that. It makes Mummy closer that way, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does..."

Severus was quickly losing the ability to speak without stifling his words. He clutched Cat with all his might and restrained his sniffling as best he could. He'd intended to offer that explanation for her benefit—to provide his daughter comfort in a manner she could understand—but he found himself affected by his own inherent beliefs; credences he'd long thought buried and forgotten.

Hermione _was_ in heaven. She had to be. There was no reason to think otherwise. It didn't mean for a second Severus wouldn't rather have had her here, in his arms or sharing breakfast with their too-curious five-year-old; but how could he not sense her presence everywhere? Even in the hug he shared with their daughter? Even in such an emotional embrace, Hermione's love transcended. She _had_ to be there. There was no other logical explanation for the overwhelming sensation that flooded his senses.

"Can you feel her, Daddy?" Cat startled him out of his grief and reverie by murmuring in his ear.

Severus's arms instantly tightened around Cat, wet eyes blinking and, for some reason, drawn to peer upward, though there was nothing visibly there to see. "I... I think so," he breathed in awe, caught off his guard when Cat unexpectedly reached up and sweetly kissed one of his dampened cheeks. She resumed their consoling hug, displaying a knowing smile against her father's chest as he rocked them back and forth, listening for Hermione, feeling her divine presence.

"Me, too, Daddy," she confirmed, drawn to peer up at the same spot as her father. "I feel Mummy, too. I think she's listening."

* * *

**A/N #2: ...Hanky? Anyone?  
**

**Part III (final prompt) will be posted soon. Reviews are always greatly appreciated. Thank you!  
**


	3. III

**A/N: I'm glad you all found the last piece as moving as it was intended to be. It wasn't easy to write, but, for my Asia, it was worth clutching my heart and crying over. **

**We've arrived at the final one-shot, Asia's Angsty Prompt #3! This is in the "miscarriage" category. Do not read if that's a topic that easily upsets or offends you. You've been warned.**

**I'll save my closing remarks for the end... **

**Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox. No money, just fun.**

* * *

**Prompter:** Asia (aka PiccolaScintilla)  
**Warning(s):** Miscarriage  
**Prompt:** Severus and Hermione are married. After a few years of marriage, they still cannot conceive. Severus blames himself for everything and tries to leave Hermione, believing, in his mind, that she deserves better.

**III**

_"Our mouths and bodies speak for us in a new language as the trees shake loose a rain of petals that stick to our slickness like skins we will wear forever. And just like that, I am changed."_  
― Libba Bray

* * *

_Why are you thinking about this now? For goodness' sake! _Hermione huffed privately to herself and shuffled about in her son's bedroom, which was decked out in the neutral colour palette of various shades of blue, with no hints of Slytherin green or Gryffindor red amongst its trimmings and trappings. She hadn't come in here to reminisce on a bad memory from the past but to simply retrieve her son's clothes. _Next thing you know, Severus will be telling you to have your head examined, and he'd be bloody right about that! _

And, really, _why _was she finding herself reflecting on a memory that, in the past, had only brought her heartache? It wasn't her present. It didn't match how her life was today: content, satisfying, utterly and completely happy.

That_'s why you're ruddy thinking about it, Hermione!_ she chastised herself, suddenly donning an acute, contemplative frown. _Because you and Severus are happy with your lives and, what, you're afraid you may wake up tomorrow and everything will be different? Get ahold of yourself. _

Perhaps that line of questioning wasn't so off the mark, though. Either way, Hermione knew she needed to refocus on the task at hand: picking out her son's outfit for a family outing to the Potters' in an hour. She quickly shook her head and opened her son's closet in search of a proper shirt and trousers.

Unfortunately, attempting to redirect her attention wasn't in the cards, for still, and aggravatingly for her, Hermione's distracted mind kept wandering into the past, back to that particularly bad memory that bore her so much pain and heartache. If Severus had been in the room and saw the misty look in her eyes, he'd have put a stop to it right away; but, alas, he was down the hall and preoccupied with their son, Slayden, at the moment, which left Hermione to unhealthily reminisce as she saw fit.

In hindsight, as she'd pondered many times over, Hermione knew she should have seen what was coming. At the time, the signs had been there staring her blatantly in the face, but she'd foolishly chosen to overlook them, purposely ignoring their existence because they frightened her, caught her off balance, catapulted her into a state of denial.

Was it convenience, she'd asked herself various times since, or was there something deeply flawed inside her that refused to acknowledge that there was an actual problem facing hers and Severus's relationship; that there was something terribly wrong that had little to do with the troubles they'd encountered in trying to conceive their first child?

Nowadays, Hermione did her best not to rehash that one problematic hiccup. None of the answers she'd ascertained on her own helped her to make better sense of what had happened anyhow. Perhaps Severus had a valid point about the past: it was better left where it was.

Yet Hermione couldn't shake what her natural sentiments had been at the time that her husband's demons first chose to rear their ugly heads: she'd been happy, just as she was now. Immensely so. Severus, too, had been seemingly happy with their lives. No, he _was_ happy—exceptionally—and, ultimately, he just couldn't allow himself to continue to be content. He'd never felt worthy of Hermione from the off; her love, her acceptance, everything she'd given him was somehow undeserved in his fragmented frame of mind. It was something she'd fought him on repeatedly since they first got together. Today, he was much more accepting, but it had taken a lot of hard work on his part to get here.

Even at the time their troubles occurred, there shouldn't have been any reason to fret about the solidity of their relationship. As two people madly in love with one another, who'd been through hell and back before the thought of marriage popped into Severus's mind some three years prior, their trust of one another ran deep. The present day was a slightly different reality. The love was still there, of course; in fact, time and work on their marriage had strengthened their commitment to one another. However, unlike the present, in the past as their love had been strengthening, Severus's capacity not to reason himself out of accepting such devotion from Hermione was secretly deteriorating, and rather quickly.

_I should've known. I should've acknowledged the signs. Why was I so desperate_ not _to see?_

Suddenly, Hermione blinked away a stray tear that had fallen from her eye. _Damn it, Hermione, knock it off_, she thought, knocking her emotions down a notch. She had no reason to cry over this now. What had tested their relationship happened two years ago, and since then she and Severus had been blessed with a beautiful baby boy—a nine-month-old son, Slayden (or "Slade", as they preferred to call him), who resembled his father in all manner of uncanny, wonderful ways—and, thus, Hermione had no reason for harping on such sorrowful memories at this point in time when their present was so much better, healthier, _happier_.

Actually, she promptly reminded herself as she began rummaging through one of her son's dresser drawers, she needed to return to the kitchen where her son and husband were partaking in breakfast. Delving into the past and pondering the 'what ifs' hadn't been in the forecast when Hermione woke up that morning, so she forced herself to inhale a deep breath.

_Calm yourself, Hermione. You're happy. You're both so happy. There's no reason for this. Now, where in the bloody hell did Severus toss Slade's other sock?_

Slade was probably covered in mushed peas and carrots by now, knowing how sloppy her husband could be with feeding duties. Severus would surely be shaking his head amusedly at their son's mess, at the pride and joy that was his firstborn. Slade would smile back as he always did, showing off that mesmerising grin of his that so resembled his father's, and Hermione didn't want to miss any of it.

"Aha!"

Locating the other half to her son's abandoned sock, Hermione closed the drawer and overheard Severus's deep voice. Buzzing and swishing noises were being attempted in an effort to entertain their son into eating his mashed vegetables. Perhaps he was also using his wand to entertain the boy; Hermione wouldn't put it past Severus to resort to whatever methods he felt necessary to get the job done. Slade's musical laughter suddenly rang out in reply to whatever Severus's antics may be, filling the home with its boisterous, beautiful harmonics.

Hermione inadvertently smiled to herself and ambled towards the kitchen to join the two but stopped short of entering, choosing instead to linger in the hallway and observe another moment. Really, she just wanted to watch them interact. It was a tremendous joy to behold Severus in the uncharacteristic role of parent. In actuality, fatherhood suited him quite well, that softer side to him showing itself brightly in the comforts of their quiet home. It made Hermione grateful to be able to witness how wonderful he could be with Slade, and how far they'd come as a couple.

Hermione propped herself against the open doorway, watching the lively scene unfolding before her eyes. Severus was the picture of relaxation this morning, seated before Slade's high chair wearing a loose-fitting grey jumper with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. They demonstrated his well-defined arm muscles, which immediately captured Hermione's wandering eye. Black pyjama bottoms that covered most of his bare feet completed the casual look, and his long raven hair was untidy but soft as it fell about his shoulders. He'd grown it out several inches since the end of the war, sometimes placing it back into a ponytail (one of Hermione's personal favourite looks.) This morning, however, it hung loose and free.

Slade's equally dark hair was only beginning to grow beyond his ears, but those rich, black eyes and shapely eyelashes were distinctively Severus's. As anticipated, his mouth was covered in green mush and he grinned widely at the funny noises his father kept projecting for his benefit. Father and son were completely enthralled in their own world, too absorbed to notice the third party admiring them silently from afar.

_Such a contrast from two years ago_, Hermione considered, and, all of a sudden, she found herself reverting back into the past at full force, her conscious soon buried in the two-year-old memory she'd fought hard to suppress in her son's room only minutes ago.

_'I should've known. I should've acknowledged the signs. Why was I so desperate_ not _to see?'_

In her mind, Hermione remembered those heart-wrenching moments so vividly as if they'd played out yesterday. She'd fallen to her knees in their upstairs loo, sobbing and trembling uncontrollably in her husband's arms, whilst he clung to her in turn, crying soundlessly into her thick tresses. The sheer anguish in his eyes matched the cries Hermione cast aloud.

"I lost it!" she cried hoarsely over and over again. "Oh, Severus, I lost it _again!_ Our baby! Our baby's gone! Oh, Merlin, forgive me! Forgive me!"

"Hermione, _please_," Severus whispered into her ear, rubbing consoling circles along her lower spine; his voice sounded thick and unnaturally strained, "this isn't your fault, love. This isn't anybody's fault. It just...happened."

"But," Hermione snivelled, "but, I - I must have done _something_ to cause this—"

"_No_, you didn't, Hermione. You did nothing wrong, understood? Please... Don't blame yourself for this. It's... It's horrible what's happened, but you're _not_ responsible."

"But—"

"_You're not to blame for this_," Severus insisted, clutching her tighter as she cried harder into his chest. "Do you understand me?"

Hermione feebly nodded, but her continued blubbering and shaking left him unconvinced. Severus shut his eyes, as if to seal away the silent tears that stubbornly fell anyhow.

"Forgive me... Forgive me..." Hermione kept whimpering, with unmistakable yearning for their unborn child, now washing farther and farther away from them with the repeated shedding of her tears.

Eventually, Hermione's choked sobs turned into careworn mewls as she remained bundled in Severus's fold. He rocked her back and forth and consoled her through the worst of the initial shock, quietly grieving along with her in his own private way. It was with later regret that Hermione lamented not having asked after how her husband was coping in these raw moments they shared. It wasn't that she didn't care—far from it—but she'd been wrapped up in her own palpable torment, whilst Severus's preferred method of grieving went painfully unspoken and well-disguised, for the most part.

_Had I taken my head out of my arse for just one moment_, Hermione chided herself, though Severus had since made it adamantly clear that she had no reason at all to blame herself for his actions.

'The fault was entirely mine, Hermione,' he'd told her several times over. 'I should have just talked it out with you.'

Recalling each painful memory, Hermione couldn't remember how long she and Severus remained huddled together on the bathroom floor, with mostly him comforting her as she wept openly for their lost child. Each time she'd miscarried—a total of three—the response had been the same: commiseration, lots of tears, and a unified strength that came from somewhere they knew not to "try one more time." Yet with each failed effort to conceive, Severus grew quieter and more withdrawn. Hermione hadn't been oblivious to his increasingly taciturn demeanour, only she was too petrified to acknowledge what was happening. Loss of a potential child was grievous enough to endure, but the notion of losing her husband as well was incomprehensible.

"Severus?" she'd try to approach him at disturbing moments when she'd find him lying in bed awake in the middle of the night, seated in a sofa chair and staring at nothing in the middle of the day, or peering silently out the window for hours at a time; the day he'd left her, he'd been staring out their bedroom window for far longer than was normal. "Please... Talk to me?"

"What is there to say?" he replied, sometimes bitterly, other times, such as that day, with great sadness. He'd added a miserable declaration that left her chilled to the quick. "I can't give you what you want; what you need; what you _deserve_."

Hermione seized him by the arm. "What are you talking about, Severus?"

"_A child_," he snarled with emphasis, his eyes surprisingly desolate and watery. "I can't give my wife a child. I... I can't give you what you desire most, Hermione: a family. I'm bloody useless."

"Oh, Severus," she sighed, frowned unhappily, and drew closer to him, "why would you ever say such a thing? You're _not_ useless, and it's not your—"

"We both know the real culprit here, Hermione," he sneered at her between borne teeth; the mixture of anger and defeat written in that striking face she so loved shocked her. "It's not you. It's never been you. I can't stand to watch you suffer or listen to you blame yourself any longer..."

Hermione's heart began racing a mile a minute, though not with fear but with a stabbing pain for the inconsolable sight of the man staring down at her. "Severus... No, it's not—"

"It's _me_, Hermione. It's all my fault. It's all..._my_ fault."

Hermione squeezed his arm too tightly. "It's_ not_ your fault, Severus! I won't listen to you talk this way."

"It _is_ my fault, and I... I can't stand around waiting for you to come to your senses."

"Wha - What? What are you talking about?"

"I can't wait around to witness your eventual resentment of me, and it _will_ happen. I'm sorry, I... I can't. I just can't."

Hermione blinked back tears. Her throat seemed to have lodged in the pit of her stomach. Severus's pained look was the confirmation of so many of the fears she'd tried to suppress, and yet, none of this seemed real. Was he actually going to do what he was suggesting to her?

"What are you saying to me?" she whispered rather than spoke with any ounce of bravery.

Severus's tongue seemed to be working extra hard to speak. His tragic eyes, too, in that moment spoke volumes, conveying words Hermione never would have wanted to hear.

"You don't resent me now, Hermione, but you will come to resent me one day. One day... _You will._ And who could blame you? Not I." A pale, unsteady hand drew up to tenderly caress her cheek. "I could never blame you for the pain I've caused; for what _I_ couldn't provide for you."

Hermione felt as if her lungs were constricting and robbing her of air. "Severus, stop this," she pleaded through several angst-ridden breaths; the words were a struggle to get out. "Please, don't - don't think like this. It's _wrong_, you hear? Stop this. I love you!"

"I love you, too," he answered her after too-long a pause. His next words jolted her like the casting of an Unforgivable. "That's why I have to leave."

Instantly, Hermione jerked backward. "_What?_"

To her horror, Severus's morbid expression remained fixed, unchanged. "It's for the best, Hermione..."

"_Like hell it is!_" she exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "You did _not_ just say that you're leaving me!"

"You'll thank me later, Hermione. In time, you'll come to realise—"

"_Bollocks!_"

"—how much more deserving you are."

"STOP THIS!"

Severus slumped his shoulders. "Hermione,_ please..._ You must understand."

"_Understand?_ NO!" she all but shrieked at him, tears now falling freely from her eyes. "I couldn't possibly understand why you would choose to give up on me—on _us_—over such a horrible misconception!"

Severus pursed his lips. "Misconception?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed up at him despite her free-flowing tears. "You're _not_ to blame for our inability to conceive a child, Severus. Do you understand me? Haven't you told _me_ that numerous times before?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

"You think just because we can't make a family like other couples can that I wouldn't still want _you?_" The confirmation was subtle but evident in Severus's mangled expression; he tried to avert his eyes, and the scowl on his weary facade intensified by the second. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Oh, you fool!" she spat, not with disgust but with desperation for him to hear her properly. "I don't want anyone else! Don't you understand that, Severus? _I want you!_ Even if we can't make a child, even if life decides it's just to be you and me the rest of our lives, _I still want you!_"

Hermione thought her words should be convincing enough. If he truly loved her, and she knew he most certainly did, he should listen and really rationalise the situation. She hadn't ever considered that their inability to have a child might be the downfall of their marriage, or that Severus would blame himself so baselessly; but the proof was marked heavily, obstinately, on his face then and there in their bedroom the day he'd unexpectedly left and, looking back, it wasn't the first time Hermione had caught a glimpse of that gut-wrenching look. She'd simply tried to avoid it at all costs.

"Look, Severus, these problems... We - We can work through them. We can work it out. Don't do something rash you'll only regret. _Please._"

"This isn't an impulsive decision, Hermione." Suddenly, those dark eyes were overcome with despair. "Have you any idea how difficult this is for me? To accept, as a man, that I can't give my beautiful wife what she wants? That I'm bloody incapable of something that should be so natural? I can't stand by and cause you heartbreak after heartbreak, Hermione. _I can't._ It would be selfish of me."

"You're being irrational, Severus, you know that?" Hermione huffed, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and crossed her arms squarely over her chest. "Irrational and stupid!"

In a flash, the overbearing sorrow Severus wore was turned upside down on its head. The result was exasperation and ire that caught Hermione entirely unprepared.

"Yes, you may add those colourful flaws to my growing list of shortcomings, if you must."

"Severus, please—"

"_No._" The word wasn't biting but still final. In a flash, he brushed past her, grabbed onto the doorknob and spoke over his shoulder, his hair cast forward to hide his broad nose and hardened eyes, "I'll have my things packed and out of your hair as soon as possible."

Hermione's mind was reeling; the room was spinning so fast that both her mind and heart couldn't keep up. Hermione stumbled and reached out for him, the panic laden in her voice.

"Severus, don't! Wait!"

But, Severus didn't hesitate. He didn't even pause to glance over his shoulder at her before he left. He swept out of the room, the pounding of his boots absolute as he exited. Seconds later, she heard him Disapparate, taking the whole of her heart with him, and all was suddenly quiet. Too quiet. The room felt confined—_Too small! Too small!_—as if it were closing in on her fast and furiously. The accompanying silence, too, was virtually unbearable. Soon, Hermione was huddled on the floor, shaking and sobbing at what she was sure had been the final blow: the loss of the love of her life.

"_Hermione?_"

Abruptly, Hermione was snatched from the horrid flashback by none other than the same velvety voice that had, at one time, left her without a parting word. That voice now, however, sounded quite concerned and, to her relief, very nearby. Her fuzzy surroundings—their spacious kitchen, her husband leaning forward in a wooden chair, Slade playing with his food in his high chair—gradually became clearer, and her eyes were soon boring into Severus's, at first with confusion and then with uneasiness.

Had she just blacked out? One of her curious hands touched her face and she was startled to feel wetness running down her cheek. _Oh, bloody hell._ Had she been crying, too? _Oh, Hermione, why did you go there?_

In an instant, Severus was standing in front of her, his large hands warmly encasing her shoulders as he stared intensely into her eyes. "You all right?" he asked her more than once, studying her closely.

Hermione managed a weak nod, but, in truth, she felt completely discombobulated. She must have zoned out for a few minutes, for she was still on her feet and leaning against the doorway.

Relief poured over her at the feel of Severus's warm touch, like the reemergence of a long-held security blanket. She snaked her arms around her husband's back and inhaled a deep intake of his masculine scent, a mixture of worn parchment, old, leather-bound books, and tobacco leaves. Another wave of peace washed over her, replacing the dread that had previously occupied its place. Severus was here, her conscience reminded her, soothing away the pain of the past the more she breathed in his comforting aroma. One of her fingers weaved into his fine hair, as if to make certain of the promise they'd made, and that she was truly in his arms. Yes, he really _was_ here. He hadn't stayed away.

In the end, Severus had sheepishly returned to their home two days later, aggrieved and with words full of regret for his "inexcusable actions," and allowed Hermione to chastise him to her heart's content. She didn't hold back, and it took more than a handful of days for things to go back to normal between them. Of course, Severus still believed himself to be the damaged product of their inability to conceive a child, but, after working through their marital woes over the next several months, they'd decided to seek out a proper Wizarding infertility specialist to help them in starting a family. They made arrangements for other possibilities should infertility potions prove unsuccessful, but, ultimately, months later they'd conceived with miraculous success.

_Yes... We're happy. We've_ been _happy. Everything's going to be all right._

"Hermione?" Severus stressed with greater urgency, shaking her gently by the shoulders. She blinked up at him and met his worried frowned. "You're upset. What's the matter?"

"Huh? Oh. Oh, nothing." She swiped at her eyes before smiling a genuine beam of exuberance that puzzled him. "I was just...reminiscing."

Hermione's vague explanation was met by an inquisitive arched eyebrow. "Reminiscing? Dare I ask about what?"

"No. I... I shouldn't have gone there. It wasn't necessary."

Realisation quickly sunk in, and the result was a series of sharp lines forming around Severus's eyes and mouth. "I see..." he replied quietly. "And, have you recovered?"

Hermione leaned in on tiptoe to press a thoughtful kiss to his parted lips. "Yes. Fully, I swear."

Severus's hands pressed on her lower back to tug her close. She merged into his embrace again with ease, cradled by his security that came in the shape of two wiry, yet strong arms.

"I hope those tears just now were happy tears." A short pause later, and his tone was less certain. "You _are_ happy, yes?"

To his astonishment, and if it were even possible, Hermione's smile become lighter as she reared back to look at him. "Yes, _of course_ I'm happy! I don't think I've ever been happier than at this moment." Craning her neck to touch the tip of his nose to hers, she resettled her feet on the ground and gazed up at him brightly. "Are _you_ happy, Severus?" she asked in return, draping her arms loosely about his waist.

Hermione witnessed the confirmation in those spellbound raven eyes—all the unspoken words she wouldn't have minded hearing, whether now or in the future. He dipped his neck to feather her nose and cheeks with a number of tenderly-rendered kisses.

"Indeed. Never happier, I swear." He leaned his forehead against hers and added, with delicate assertion, "And I will never abandon you or our son. _Never._ You have my word."

Hermione let out a quivering breath. "I know, Severus. I know."

Severus cupped her chin in his hand. "No more reminiscing about _that_, all right?"

"Oh, very well. I'll try." Severus hissed at Hermione disapprovingly, which earned him another one of her fetching smiles. "All right, all right! I won't, I promise. I just... We're so happy now that I guess sometimes I just..."

"Fear I'll revert back to old habits," he finished gravely.

"Perhaps..." she confessed, shooting him a guilty look over.

Severus took his wife's face in both of his hands and stared deeply into her eyes, this time with earnest. "I swear to you, Hermione," he promised her steadily, his voice strong-sounding and resilient, "that that will _never, ever_ happen. Not now; not ever again."

"How... How do I know for sure?" she challenged him softly.

Severus's dark irises grew less intense, their depths all-knowing as they bore into hers. "Because being without you for two crummy days was more than enough time to convince me that I never wanted to be apart from you ever again, and that I had _a lot_ to work on; that I had to be a better husband...for _you_. Hopefully, I've delivered since then."

At those heartfelt words, Hermione's smile widened. She reached out and cradled Severus's face between her palms as well, pausing to kiss him passionately on the mouth, and felt the depth of his love—his promise—transcend.

"Then I know for sure," Hermione whispered contentedly, echoing a sigh of relief that released an invisible weight off her shoulders.

Severus returned her smile with a small smirk, took ahold of one of her hands, and led her into the kitchen to check out their son's mess of a breakfast. Slade merely stared up at his parents in return, his curious eyes taking in the exchange of love that ran so deeply between them, with a toothless grin.

* * *

**A/N #2: And there you have it! **

**I sincerely enjoyed writing these pieces for my friend, Asia, as I find it a challenge but also so rewarding to make a prompter happy, especially a good friend. :) I hope these angsty pieces met her expectations, and I hope those of you who've followed along enjoyed reading them, too. **

_**Until next time!**_


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